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" That makes sense I suppose....would you like some help though? I think I could squeeze alittle more room out of this...." He said, looking up at the ceiling of the rock curiously. He did, however, take the offered cup of water, knocking it back like a shot," Thanks mate."

" Well...funny thing that. See, I had a weapon, a shield that had magic on it really, but it broke on me. So I talked to some of my friends and they pointed me in the direction of someone named Dante, who's a smith apparently. I also needed a way to make some money, so he offered me a job. I gotta find a snake." He finished, hardly taking a breath and talking faster than he probably should have.

" And it doesn't sound like too bad of a plan, better than my 'wander about until I find it' plan."

" Not sure actually, just supposed to bath the rock in it's blood. So..I can only assume it's gonna be big." Damion did have to agree with that hole in the rock though. He watched as his new compadre layed down, leaning back more against the rock himself, prepared to wait for the cover of darkness. He hadn't though about the fact that the beasties might not wanna come out until darkness.

" Gotcha." Damion said with nod when they finally came out, having passed the time messing with the meteorite in his hands, making it into a more egg shape. While Scarker tied the bloody sock to his staff, he instead climbed up ontop of the rock, peering around cautiously.

Never know what sort of things were going to pop out after all.

" I wake...." the thoughts beginning again, the mind shaking free of the rigors of slumber and the fog of no thought. With a twitch of muslce, the sand that had gathered and been dug into shed from the scaled body, that same sand being ground under the body as it began to slither away, following the same path that Damion himself had taken.

And thus it was not the blood that attracted the 9 meter long serpent, but instead the heat of Scarkers body, now a stark contrast to that of the cooling sand, bright and beacon like. To the two men the snake would be quite evident against the sand as it moved towards them, it's size making it impossible to hide or sneak up.

(( And now for possibly the single most overdue post I've ever made. ))





The scene had been set painstakingly, including every element that this boy held dear. The lives of innocents and the presence of things that would prey upon the innocents, the forewarning of impending disaster and the possibility that it might be averted, even long forgotten knowledge that held no purpose other than to be reflected upon. All of these things had been used to decorate this meeting between the Angaran swordsman and the lady.

It was all for the sake of a meeting that had already ended, which meant that everything that was happening now was pointless and without meaning except for that which was given to it by the two men... the boy and the demon... who had involved themselves in this conflict. There would be no reward waiting for the victor after this was over. No honor or treasure would be won from it, and no lives would be saved if one side triumphed or was defeated. The only thing to be gained from seeing this battle through to the end was a feeling.

It was a feeling that Ryugi was desperate to have.


It was a spectacular display. The Angaran summoned up amounts of power that even he was unaware were his own and poised himself in preparation to strike a telling blow against his adversary. A sword was held in powerful hands. A belief was held in a courageous heart. The power of his ancestors flowed through his veins. In every way Ryugi had collected himself at this moment to become a true successor to his inspiration and his idol, Eclipse.


It was touching. Really.

The sight of it just warmed the demon's black heart.

It reminded him of the way that stupid, idealistic youth always seemed to inspire boys into action and the way that the same idealism drove them beyond the lines of logic and reason. The heart of a child, so to speak, was one that held the dream of a perfect world despite every undeniable imperfection that it was subjected to. It was an unstoppable dream that drove men to throw away their lives day after day since time began. The ideal that the world can be a better place than it is, and that one man can make a difference.

What was most impressive about the Angaran at this moment was not his swordsmanship, nor was it the reservoir of power that was welling up inside of him and out... it was his youth. The same expression that every courageous young warrior wore while they still held the dream that they could change the world with their own hands, from the most noble knight to the most despicable devil.


Ryugi wouldn't hear him over the sound of his own scream, but the words weren't meant for him. It could have been called condescending, or arrogant, or dismissive, perhaps even an act of pity in the face of all the times the young warrior's chance at victory had slipped through his fingers; but it was mercy that kept the demon's feet rooted to the ground where they were. The boy was pouring his heart into this final attack, and Joshua couldn't bring himself to crush those dreams.

The two blades in his hands crossed in front of him; the ancient dragon bone in his right at the front, and the slender blade of his sword behind it. Crackling waves of energy ran down his arms and radiated from his shoulders as a torrent of spiritual energy was released. A sudden gust of heated wind burst outwards from him and scattered several of the smaller pieces of debris stone and shattered dragon bone that littered the ground near him; though all of it was no more than side-effects of the power welling up to meet Ryugi's attack head-on. The Angaran had been summoning up power for longer, though, and had the temperament to let everything he had escape in a single, magnificent display. Both of those things gave Ryugi an advantage at that moment.




The blast impacted on the crossed blades with a titanic force; or more accurately it slammed into a barrier inches from them and met resistance. Simultaneously the blast was both split like a raging river meeting an immovable rock downstream and crashed through like a flood bursting a dam. The energy being released washed over despite the small object of resistance that it met and tore through the wall of stone that, while at one time would have been a cavern wall would never again be recognizable as that.

A crackling storm held fast at the center of the torrent, with both blades crossed in front of Joshua and the brunt of the energy being thrust upon him held back only by the energy that was being forced back at it. It was a losing battle for ground, however; the force of the attack was enough to drive him backwards across the cave floor and the heat was enough to melt the stone to a thin layer of magma beneath his feet.





The barrier faltered and several small streams of energy forced themselves through; the tremendous pressure outside the protective field was forcing energy through in pinpoint streams like water bursting through the hull of a submarine. Though the defects in the barrier were not responsible for the sound that had caused Joshua to grit his teeth tighter. Despite being heavily fortified by the energy running through it, the brittle relic that Joshua held in his right hand had splintered... first in one place, then in others. Cracks spidered through the bone, showing how close to its limit it was already coming.

When it shattered, Joshua would not be able to maintain the barrier with only one object to focus through and even switching the focus to his armguard or even his own hand would cause it to lapse momentarily... which was one moment too long.





Nothing would be seen through the cloud of dust, rock, smoke, and steam that had enveloped the interior of the desert mesa in those seven seconds. It had been like an eternity as the attack pressed on, but now that it was over it would feel even longer as Ryugi waited for the air to clear.

He could hear, though. Despite the ringing in his ears that the momentary firestorm had left there were sounds in that cloud that told stories.

The hissing of the pond as the boiling water on the surface slowly died down and intermixed with the frigid temperature of the deeper water.

The crumbling stones that piled upon the ground as the walls around them adjusted to their new shape.

The heavy splat of molten rock as it dripped in gobs from the edges of the hole that had been burned through the side of the mesa.

The labored breathing in his chest as the Angaran struggled against his own fatigue.

Drip. Drip.

Silent compared to the rest of these was the sound of droplets falling into a pool.



As the cloud began to settle and the steam dispersed into the air, the makings of the world around the Angaran would become clearer to him and he would begin to see the things that had been hidden from him in the aftermath. The state of the cave, the pool, and the shoreline. The devastation caused by his uncontrolled assault. The figure standing in front of him not at all the way that it had been.

Joshua had dropped his left foot back, turning himself slightly to the side so that his right side was forward; and it appeared that this was the way he had been standing when the barrier finally came down. Heavy burns covered the entirety of his right side, turning large sections of skin black charring them to the point that they were beginning to peel away. Gashes and lacerations from the energy force had carved themselves out in his side, hip, leg, and even a blackened strip of flesh torn out of his right cheek. Though it had appeared these parts of his body were the ones that had been shielded from the full force of the attack.

With a slow drip of blood falling into a pool around his foot, the complete length of Joshua's right arm from the shoulder to the wrist had been stripped of flesh on one side, straight down to the charred bone. Strands of stringy, crisp flesh still remained in some places where the flesh had been shredded and burned, but much of the wound was completely clean as if it had simply been peeled straight off.

In stark contrast, Joshua's left side was relatively undamaged. A few tears in the skin and a few burn marks were all the injury that could be seen. While his right arm hung lifeless in front of him with hardly the muscle left on it to move it from where it was, the demon's left arm was stretched out behind him with his sword still in hand; clenched tightly by the hilt. As the obscuring cloud around them lifted, his left arm dropped as well. It hadn't been that he had drawn the sword back in preparation for a counterattack, when the barrier broke he had moved it behind him to shield the sword with his body.



The right fist clenched somewhat... it at least still had the muscles necessary for that. His first step was forwards, though his second was to the side as his body faltered somewhat on the burned leg. The third, forth, and all subsequent steps did not suffer, but for that brief moment he had almost fallen.

"Gale..."

The steam from the pond that Joshua walked through seemed to solidify and take shape beside his left side; forming arms, legs, a head, a body. The slender figure of a woman in a flowing dress danced in the air for a moment, running its hands across Joshua's left wrist and forearm before sweeping slowly and gracefully around his back to wrap its arms around his right arm; stroking insubstantial fingers over the flesh that was no longer there.

"...go do it."

The spirit nodded silently, releasing the arm and floating, sinking for a brief moment like a fish in water that had stopped swimming. Then it drifted, swiftly flowing forwards towards the struggling Angaran with outstretched hands reaching for his face...

...one of them touching his cheek in a way so light that no creature of flesh and blood ever could, and the other patting him on the head. The gossamer woman smiled softly and mouthed two words, no sound ever escaping her lips. 'Good boy.'

"It's in the job description."

Men didn't slay monsters, monsters did. For a man to walk down that path, he had to lose a part of himself in the process and become something else. That was the way of the Reapers, who had left the world behind them. It was a mantle taken up only by those who have nothing left to lose.

Ryugi had made the right decision by rejecting D.


"Hey kid..." The Reaper rested the sword across his shoulder; not seeming to mind that the edge of the blade was cutting into the skin and drawing a minute amount of blood.

"...don't get yourself killed. You've got a lot to live for."

Scarker didn't have a choice anymore. After seeing just how much speed the snake had, he had to induce a fatality or risk suffering one. The mage didn't move, he knew he'd never get far enough, so he just stood there in a stance that he probably assumed would be good for a counterattack. At this point, he figured it was pretty much a given that he would be the snake's next target, so he had to be ready to strike.

That would normally be quite useless, given that there was little chance for the mage to survive an attack, let alone with enough time to counter, except for the slight swirl of wind around him. All he needed was six seconds of stare-off with the snake for the energy that he was desperately pulling in to finish the pattern that he needed.

His sightless eyes locked casually onto the snake's enormous orbs with a look that could only be translated to: 'well, aren't you going to be an interesting opponent.'

Scarker's timing was perfect, everything lined up. The snake was coming at the expected speed, the spell would go off in time, all he had to do was jump and the snake would be dead before its momentum was lost.

Then there was the sand-wave. The mage saw it, his sight wrapping around and understanding it on a level that he couldn't handle at the moment. All he knew was that his magic was going off, and he had to do something.

He had already sprung into the air, his instinct had been correct about the timing. His swords were pointed toward the serpent, waiting for it to impale itself. His eyes were glowing violently red as the spell activated. He had one shot, and now was it.

The last of the energy that he had was used to grab himself by his shoulders and drag him forward, with his swords pointed directly at the snake's eyes. There was enough force behind the drag to pierce the 3' long blades well into, if not through the serpentine orbs. If that wasn't fatal, what happened next had to be.

From Damion's point of view, it would look like Scarker exploded.

For a split second, there was only a hair's breadth between the mage's clothing, scales, and hair, and the near solid wall of flame that had suddenly surrounded him. Then there was only a mass of fire bursting outward until it extended 7' from all parts of him. It only lasted a few seconds, but the flames were incredibly hot, and their origin was incredibly close.

The smoke that was just from the existence of the flame was a strange off-white, and would clear much faster than the black smoke produced by any flesh that was burned by it. Still, it would be a minute or two until there was any sure sign of what had happened.